


Dance For All You're Worth

by SusantheAwesome19507



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 01, Slow Burn, Talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-12-29 18:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12091206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusantheAwesome19507/pseuds/SusantheAwesome19507
Summary: "Lydia finally says Yes to Stiles' begging her to go to the dance with him. It was at that dance that Stiles realized a glaring problem: He did not know how to dance."





	1. Anything You Can Do

This fic is dedicated to Violet, who encouraged this beta reader to become a writer. You're awesome and you inspire me!! Hugs! 

Enjoy! 

_____

"Shit! I'm never gonna be able to do thiiiisss!!!" Stiles glared at his open laptop, where a couple danced happily on the screen, oblivious to his irritation. "This is impossible!" When Instructor Greg or Tim, or whoever the fuck he was had said 'I can guarantee you will be dancing like a star in under an hour,' he had not been accounting for hyperactive 17-year olds with too many limbs and no sense of rhythm.

Agh... Ok, calm down. Just think of Lydia. When she gets out of the hospital, you've softened her up, she'll definitely say yes again, and when she does, you need to be able to show off your skill!

Determined again, Stiles rewinded the video back to the beginning and pressed play.

"Now! You are an extension of your partner, you are the leader!"

Leader of what? Stiles had never been put in charge of anything in his life. 

"Now strut your stuff! One, two, three, one two, three..!" 

Stiles stumbled woodenly around the room, eyes focused on his foot placement, teeth gritted in concentration. He knew he wasn't doing great, but he didn't want to pause in the middle again.

Finally, the music stopped. 

"Not bad." Light applause sounded from right behind Stiles and he whirled around, spotting Derek lurking in the corner of the room.

"Christ! Derek, what the hell, how long have you been here, what are you..?" Stiles felt his face turn beet red. The last thing he wanted was for Derek Hale to see him stumbling around the room pretending to not be the loser he was. "What is your problem?"

"Isn't the spring formal already over, Stiles?" Derek moved into the room, looking around as though scoping a new piece of property. 

"It's not the only dance, Derek! Those of us who are actually in high school know that there is such a thing as yearly repeated dances, not to mention prom and homecoming, and, there is a lot of dancing in high school and I want to dance with Lydia, she said yes this time and... Ok, granted it wasn't the best, but if I just--" He gestured wildly at the screen, anything to take Derek's probing eyes off his own face, "Just learn some stuff here, I'm sure I could--"

"Lydia. Who's in the hospital."

"Do you know of any other strawberry blond goddesses with that name who grace this city?"

"Not my point." Derek sat down in Stiles' desk chair. His every move seemed stronger, more in control and calculated now that he was an alpha. "Your date landed in the hospital, mauled under your watch, and your solution to that is to learn how to dance better? For next time?"

Stiles paled and his dropped his gaze to the floor. I... I don't know what else to do..."

"Did you try visiting her?"

"Of course I did! Her mom wouldn't let me in the room! She hates me!" Stiles had stood by the door for half an hour, hoping she would change her mind. She had threatened to call security instead. He had never felt so helpless to atone for something in his life. Under her baleful gaze, he had picked up the teddy bear and chocolate and left, tail between his legs. He glanced at his top drawer where he'd placed them, ready for another attempt.

Derek followed his gaze and sniffed, nose wrinkling. Then he sighed. "You thought that would work?"

Stiles looked back down at the pile carpet. He actually felt his eyes misting, as though Derek speaking his inner doubts aloud somehow made them dig deeper. "What would you know about trying to get a girl?" He questioned bitterly. "I bet they just see you, all manly and brawn and rawr! and they just throw themselves into your stupid muscly arms and you dance like a fucking Hollywood film, and your girlfriends don't get mauled on your first date ever, no, they go home afterward and have super hot sex and they love you instantly and everything is peachy-fucking-dory! But I can't do that, ok!? I'm low on the food chain, the girl I like is stuck in a hospital bed and I can't even visit her to see if she's okay because Momzilla is guarding the door and she hates me, Derek, ok?! So sorry if it offends your principals that my first date ever is stuck in a hospital room and I'm fucking learning how to dance, because that's all I can do!" 

He actually feels a tear leak from the corner of his eye and no! Hell no! He will not let Derek see him cry! But it falls anyway and he hears the sniffing followed by a low "Huh." when Derek smells it.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Does it matter?"

"Just tell me what you want and leave, Derek. I'm not feeling up to being judged right now."

"So do you want to learn?" The voice comes from much closer to him and Stiles looks up, instantly regretting it when he meets Derek's eyes inches from his own.

"Huh, what?"

Derek grinned down at him, somehow looking more menacing then when he scowled. "Do you want to learn how to dance?"

Stiles scoffed. "You just heard me Derek, and you know it's useless, why--"

"You want to work on your posture first." Derek wasn't even listening. "The hunched back works for losers but not dancers."

"Um, ouch, that was harsh--"

"Stiles."

"Um, yeah?"

"Stop being helpless. You are too smart and too capable. I've seen you dodge death where others would be mauled to pieces, you're fierce and loyal and smart. If Lydia and Supermom don't want you, then fuck them."

"I... Derek, I--"

"But we both know you're going to try again and when you do, you should know how to dance. Do you want me to teach you?"

Stiles could only focus on Derek's boots. They were scuffed and the toes were covered in mud, probably from the preserve. They were an otherwise quite nice set of boots even if they were a little blurred in Stiles' view.

Stop crying, dammit!

"I..." Stiles took one last manly sniff and looked up at Derek, catching his eye for a millisecond before quickly looking back down and focusing on his shoulder. "Ok."

"Look at me." Derek said. His voice lowered in the space between them and Stiles felt himself shiver. Bracing himself, he looked up again. Derek's eyes were the kaleidoscope of green-gold they usually were, but tinged with alpha red. "You have nothing to prove to her."

Stiles couldn't break his stare, even if he tried. "Okay." He felt the smallest grin twitch at the corners of his mouth. "Um, dance now?"

Derek nodded and his eyes returned back to pure human. "Okay, I will be Lydia and you will be yourself. You need to lead me around the room. Don't worry about your exact steps yet, just worry about being the lead."

"Okay." Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all. He glanced at Derek's body. That was a lot to lead around. "Okay, um, so, I'm just gonna put my hand," he grasped Derek's unfairly perfect waist with his left hand, "And then, uhh..." He held out his right hand for Derek to take.

"Lead, Stiles."

"Um, right." Stiles grabbed Derek's hand, fumbling with it a bit clumsily. It was not Lydia's hand, not at all. For one thing, it was bigger than Stile's, and he could feel light hairs on the back, strong fingers clasping firmly on his own and a warm, dry palm, smooth despite time spent on all fours, but by no means soft.

Stiles had not been made to lead this around the room; or around anything really.

"Okayyyyy." Stiles wooshed out a breath. "So, let's move now..." He cautiously stepped backward, half expecting Derek to let go and leave him to step alone, but Derek walked with him, one step forward, one step to the side, one step to the other side, one very small step toward Derek, all the while conscious of his palms beginning to sweat and his heart pounding like a trapped rabbit's.

"Stiles." Derek sounded amused. "Eyes forward. Shoulders straight. You're not in a mine field, you are on a dance floor. Practice making eye contact with me and use peripheral vision to keep an eye on the room around you and other couples."

Eye contact, peripheral vision, Derek, dancing..!

"I don't think I can do this." Stiles deflated, grip going lax.

"You can." Derek was quietly confident. "Would you like me to show you?"

Come to think of it, despite Stiles' rant earlier, he did not know if Derek was actually any good at dancing. It would be interesting to see if he truly did sweep the ladies off their feet.

...And irritating.

"Okay. Do your worst, Sourwolf, blow me away! Or... something." He cringed.

Derek chuckled. "Now, you are Lydia. Lydia does not dance with her eyes on the ground, Lydia does not dance with her shoulders slumped. Be Lydia."

"You want me to put on a pair of 6-inch heels too?"

Derek snorted. "Maybe try learning to dance on solid ground before trying that."

"Point."

"Now, eyes up."

Stiles' eyes slowly rose to meet Derek's, and the alpha's eyes stared calmly back at him. Derek's left hand circled Stiles' waist and he grasped Stiles' right hand in a firm but gentle grip.

"Now, follow my lead." Derek pulled him in closer, stepping to one side, then back, then the other side, then directly toward Stiles before repeating the pattern. Stiles stumbled after him, trying to keep his back straight and shoulders square and not trip on Derek's feet and not bump into the dresser and--

"Stiles," Derek's hand left his waist and grasped his chin, bringing him back to eye contact. "I'm watching your back. If you stop worrying so much about where you are placing your feet, they will naturally stop tripping all over themselves." He didn't drop a step as he said this and Stiles' eyes couldn't help but dart around, still scoping out the surroundings, trying in vain to peak down when Derek held his chin so level. "Stiles." Suddenly Derek was right there, inches from his face. His hand had left Stiles' waist and instead his entire arm engulfed Stiles' middle. It was a very firm arm.

"Um... Hi." Stiles mumbled, suddenly wondering if his breath smelled okay.

"Focus on me." Derek said. "The rest of the world falls away, and all that's left is you and your dance partner. You will not bump into anything, and your feet already know how to walk. Focus on your eye contact. I am the only thing that exists, so I get your focus."

Derek wasn't wrong. From this close, arm wrapped snugly around Stiles, he filled his whole world. The warmth of his body penetrated every layer of Stiles' clothing and crawled through him. His gaze demanded Stiles' full attention, and his hold on Stiles' hand pulled him in each direction they stepped. Since he was three, Stiles had never felt so... held.

"You... you are a good dancer." He mumbled, eyes still trapped on Derek's face. "Damn you."

Then Derek... Derek smiled. Not his predator's smile. Not a grin. A real, full smile. In that moment, Stiles could truly appreciate that behind the pain, behind the overwhelming power, there lay a man. A man who knew how to dance. A man who didn't mind taking a moment to help a socially handicapped young man learn how to sweep a girl off her feet, a girl they both knew he would probably never get. A man who still knew how to smile.

More than he ever had before, Stiles wanted to know this man. His ins and outs. What made him tic. What could make him smile again. What it might be like if he laughed. What kissing him would be like: would he be gentle and coaxing, or would he be passionate and fierce..?

"Stiles?" Stiles jumped as Derek's voice brought him back to reality. They were no longer dancing in a careful square. Derek's hands had captured both sides of his waist and he was swaying him gently back and forth. "You okay?"

"Mmhm. Yeah. Yeah I'm okay, just... thinking."

"Am I that poor a leader that you are thinking of other things?"

"Oh! no, not at all. Actually. You..." Stiles trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

"I what?"

"You... you just... Never mind."

Derek's grin turned feral. "I'll dip you if you don't say." His voice was downright.. playful.

"No, no it's not complete thoughts," And the ones that are aren't shareable "Just my mind... doing it's thing."

"You're lying." Derek's voice was soft.

"Wha--no fair! I'm--"

One of Derek's hands left Stiles waist to tap out a staccato heartbeat on Stiles' chest. tap. tap tap tap. tap. "Brace yourself."

"Woah, Derek..!"

Derek pulled his hand from Stiles chest before grabbing his hand and stepping to the side. Angling his body, he bent down over Stiles as he dipped him low to the ground, playful smile widening on his already far-too-handsome face. Stiles was no heavyweight, but he wasn't light either, yet it took Derek no effort to hold him there.

"Last chance or I drop you on the floor."

"You wouldn't!"

"I'm an alpha now, Stiles, I can do whatever I want." Then Derek's face sobered. "But you're right. I wouldn't." He carefully pulled Stiles back up with him. They now stood inches from each other, Derek's hands around Stiles' waist, Stiles' hands on Derek's shoulders, just staring.

"Do you feel a bit better now?" Derek broke the silence.

"I..." Stiles took a second to take stock of his emotional state. "Yeah... yeah I do."

Derek smiled again. "Good. That's how you're supposed to feel after a dance. Not like a loser, not like you're dancing on marbles, but like you're valued. And you are valued, Stiles. I see it in the way your dad looks at you, the way Scott looks at you. You're too special to throw yourself at a Lydia Martin. Find someone who is worth more, who will treasure you right."

Like you? 

Where had that thought come from..?

"Why are you telling me this?"

Derek's face darkened. "It's something I should have heard when I was your age. Maybe if I had..." he cut off suddenly.

"What?" Stiles suspected it had something to do with Derek's family. But Derek's face had closed off, suddenly and he backed away. The moment was over.

"I need to go check the perimeter. Good luck with Lydia." He moved toward the window and lifted it up high.

"Derek!"

Derek hesitated where he stood, then turned back. "Yes?" He was silhouetted by the moon from where he stood, and it was an odd contrast: This fierce creature outlined in the dark night sky paired with a gentle voice.

"Thank you. I... I really needed that, and you didn't have to, so--"

"Good night, Stiles." Derek's voice was still gentle, but closed. He leaped silently through the window and was gone.

Stiles couldn't help but stare at the empty window frame. That had been... really nice.

"Good night. Sourwolf."

_____

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	2. Focus On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wonders who the real Derek is. A confrontation happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a lot of response to write a chapter 2, so here it is! Kudos as always to Violet--you are the light at the end of the tunnel! I'd also like to give a shoutout to Hana whose art inspires me to write! You're amazing! (You guys can see her work on https://otakuneko2499.deviantart.com/ seriously amazing and she takes prompts/requests if you tell her I sent you O3O)
> 
> This picks up where the last fic left off, maybe 2-3 weeks later..?
> 
> This wasn't beta-read, so all mistakes are mine, and if you spot any, feel free to comment! Also if you loved it, kudos and comments are my sustenance!

_"Focus on me." Derek said. "The rest of the world falls away, and all that's left is you and your dance partner. I am the only thing that exists, so I get your focus."_

Stiles hummed to himself as he pulled books out of his locker. It wasn't the first time he caught himself humming the tune he and Derek had danced too. Their interaction had left a bigger impact on him than he had first thought. So much about Derek had been changed, foreign in that interaction. Gone was the gruff dictator who thought "grr" was a well verbalized request. For once he had looked at Stiles and not seen a gangly loser with his head buried in the sand but instead a young man brimming with potential, desperate to be noticed. He had been kind, in his own growly way, even charming. He'd smiled. Stiles once again found himself wondering which one was real.

He chuckled at the image that sprang to mind, Derek leaving the womb with a scowl on his face and, armed with tiny fangs and sideburns, barking at his mother that he was _hungry, grrr!_  

Books sorted, Stiles slammed his locker shut and turned to head for biology.

"...! Stiles! _Stiles!_ ” Scott’s concerned voice yanked him from his thoughts.

“Huh? Yeah what?” Stiles fell into step with Scott who was watching him worriedly.

“This is at least the tenth time this week you’ve been completely spaced out on me, bro. What’s up?” 

“I’m not spacing... just focused.”

Scott's face scrunched up. “On what?”

Too late, Stiles realized his verbal misstep. “Um, uh...” He didn’t want to share his encounter with Scott, didn’t want Scott to pull it apart and mis-analyze the pieces. Scott was not Derek’s biggest fan, and while they had made their peace he would no doubt find some way to ruin the experience in Stiles’ mind. Call him sentimental, but Stiles wanted this highlight to remain untainted.

 _Highlight?_  

Huh.

“Stiles?”

“Right, yeah, um... How’s Lydia doing?” 

Scott’s face immediately melted into understanding. “She’s doing alright. Allison said that her parents are hopeful. Shes hasn’t woken up yet though.” Seeing Stiles’ face he quickly added “But I’m sure she’ll wake up! Allison thinks so too and she’s got a... feeling for these things...”

 _Oh Scott._ Stiles couldn’t help but grin at his best friend’s attempts to cheer him up. Good ol’ Scott. He sort of wondered what Scott would think, but was still determined not to tell him. 

_I doubt he’ll see it the way I do._

_How_ do _I see it..?_

It was food for thought. There was no question it was...special, but he couldn’t...He didn’t...

 _More than he ever had before, Stiles wanted to know this man._  

He had been fascinated at a gentle Derek.

_His ins and outs. What made him tic. What could make him smile again. What it might be like if he laughed._

He had been so kind and patient, and had genuinely strengthened Stiles’ self confidence. His low chuckle when he dipped Stiles for lying was permanently embedded in Stiles’ memory.

_What kissing him would be like: would he be gentle and coaxing, or would he be passionate and fierce..?_

He wanted to know. Damnit, he wanted to know this Derek. Wanted him to be real. Not even for his own sake. Stiles looked back at many of Derek’s failures that he had been witness to and imagined how they might have gone had this other Derek led the charge. If the growls and senseless commands were replaced by nurturing, sound advice. If the Derek who never cracked a smile, who never let his guard down instead took the time to get to know them, to give them a guiding hand, took an active interest in their personal lives.

It saddened him that after over a year of knowing him, Stiles felt he had just met Derek for the first time. 

These thoughts filled his head. They absorbed his focus. He was on autopilot, obsessed. 

What if?

_What if??_

It was kind of a moot point, though. Since that night, Stiles had not seen that Derek again. He’d seen Derek or course, at pack meetings, bumped into him once by the coffee shop, but never that same Derek who had been so kind and giving. He’d looked for it, had been temped to pry for it once or twice, but in the end had kept silent. Maybe it was just that one time. Maybe...

“Stiles. Stiles!”

“Huh, yeah, what Scott?”

The huff of air behind him was enough to make him realize his mistake. _Oh._

“What’s up, Derek?”

“Shouldn’t that be my question?”

“I dunno, do you generally ask yourself ‘What’s up?’”

“Stiles.”

“Yeah, what.”

“We’re at a stakeout, pay attention. Or die.”

“How focused do I need to be with wolfy senses sitting right next to me?”

“Wolfy senses is gonna leave you behind to be shot by hunters if you space out again.”

“Then who will be your Evil Wolf Bait? They always go after me first, giving you fair warning. Face it, Derek, you need me to survive.” 

“So that’s your official title in the pack now? Evil Wolf Bait?”

“Well with all these slow healing squishy bits I’m not good for much else in the field.”

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be “in the field” at all; you’re a liability.”

“Now that’s nota nice thing to say to your wolf bait, is it?”

As they spoke, Stiles couldn’t help but search Derek’s face, his eyes, looking for some sign of him, a clue, a--

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Stiles.”

“It’s dark out, I can barely see. We don’t all have extraordinary 20/20 vision no matter the lighting, oh Mighty Alpha.”

“Stiles.”

“What?”

Suddenly, Derek was right in front of him, He had bent down so he was level with Stiles’ face and his eyes bored into Stiles’, twin red lamps of power.

“Why do you insist on lying to me when you know I can tell right away.” In typical Derek fashion, it wasn’t quite a question

Stiles chuckled nervously. “Practice makes perfect, right?”

Derek didn’t laugh. “You’ve been watching me very closely for a while now, like you’re looking for something. What are you looking for?”

_I’ll dip you if you don’t say._

“I’m... nothing, whatever, it’s not important.” Stiles turned away.

“Liar.” Derek was right behind him, chin almost perched atop Stiles’ head. That was it. Stiles whirled around.

“Derek, who are you?”

Derek looked taken aback. Of all the questions Stiles could have asked, he clearly had not been expecting that. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Stiles to explain.

“Because, because, you were... we were dancing, and you were all... and then now... and I don’t know, I just wonder, and GAHHH, please stand back, please I can’t talk to you when you’re right in front of my face like this, you can be really intimidating you know, and you’re right there and all GRR, and your eyes are literally terrifying, and you’re not backing up, Derek, please back up?” Stiles had to physically clamp a hand over his mouth to stop the stream of word vomit that was pouring out of his mouth. Derek still hadn’t moved. He looked like Stiles’ words had shocked him into stillness. It was Stiles who took a step back.

And another step. And collapsed on a fallen tree. 

“Better. You have a lot of presence, Derek, more than one guy should ever have, and the alpha thing really hasn’t helped. Anyway, my question has to do with... to do with the... when you helped me right after Lydia landed in the hospital.”

Derek seemed to have finally recovered somewhat and approached Stiles warily, opting to lean on a tree nearby. His arms were crossed over his chest and he regarded Stiles, expression unreadable.

“What about it?”

“You... you weren’t the way you usually are. You were... patient. Like, crazy patient, actually, I mean you were dealing with _me_ and God knows I can test people’s patience on the best of days, and that was _not_ my best day. Um, anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s... you were so... I don’t want to say not you? But that’s basically it, I mean, you’re usually very _grrr, I’m an alpha now, hear me roar! Do this, do that!_ but you weren’t. You...” Stiles took a breath and sat forward, face down, eyes watching his own dirty fingers twist around each other and chewing his lip. “You were... kind. Which, I know you are sometimes too, but openly kind. You made jokes that weren’t purely sarcastic, you gave me help when you really didn’t have to give a shit, you bolstered my confidence in a way even Scott hasn’t been able to, you made me feel...” _wanted, valued, valuable!_ He couldn’t say it. It sounded too... heavy. “...Nice, I guess.”

“Why are you saying this?” Derek’s voice was quiet, expressionless.

“I’ve been wondering, _a lot_ actually. Which one is you? Is it that you used to be like that before... before?” Stiles lifted his head and looked up at Derek.  Derek regarded him back, unreadable. “Who _are_ you, Derek?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t completely know, I just wonder. When Peter was running wild and we had no idea what we were doing, if you had spoken to the pack the way you did to me, with direction and... I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, I just want to know. God, I have to know, why aren’t you like that all the time? I’ve seen you with your powers all the time, you are a force to be reckoned with, and then some, you are so powerful. But... when you taught me how to dance, that was the first time that, to me, you were an alpha. A leader. That night, you helped me be better, not by telling me “be better” but you made me realize I could be, that I should be, that why wasn’t I? It was... Derek, you are really powerful, and most of that isn’t all the claws and the fangs and the super-strength. I’m not even a werewolf, but you gave me such strength. You are amazing, Derek, and I just can’t help but wonder, obsess, really, let’s be real... Why don’t you? What’s stopping you?” Some where in his talking, Stiles had stood up and approached Derek, but Derek remained where he was, impassive.

“That’s what’s been bothering you all this time?” Derek’s voice was cold.

Stiles faltered. “I... Yeah, I guess. Sorry to intrude on your...” He waved his arms vaguely in Derek’s direction. “Anyway, we should get moving, this _is_ a stakeout, so... sorry for dumping all that on you, but you _did_ ask, and you know me, why say three words when you can vomit them everywhere--”

“Why do you care?”

“What?” Stiles turned around, mid step to face Derek again. For the first time, Derek’s voice was threaded with the slightest bit of emotion.

“Why do you always care so much?!” Derek sounded downright angry. He stalked forward, fists clenched, eyes once again regaining their red glow. “Shit, Stiles, most people don’t give half a shit about you, even the ones that should. So often you are an afterthought, forgotten until it’s too late, disregarded, unappreciated. And yet you keep caring. You care yourself to distraction! You care so fucking much it makes me want to destroy something!” Derek was breathing hard as he said this. “And when someone cares for you back you’re so, so fucking surprised, like you don’t deserve it! Fuck that! I said Lydia was not worth you, and I meant it! No one is and yet you give us all a piece of yourself, that none of us asked for, that I don’t want.” Derek sounded aggrieved by what he was saying, like he was under an immense weight. “I don’t deserve it, none of us do. For God’s sake, Stiles, go live for yourself for two fucking seconds you fucking fool!” Derek turned away then, facing away. He was still breathing hard and Stiles felt as though his voice had echoed through the whole preserve. 

It was hard to process what Derek had said. He had laced it with so much anger that at first Stiles was tempted to take it at face value: _Get the fuck away, you dumb-ass!_ But he knew that that was not what Derek meant, that that was the farthest from what Derek meant. Derek cared. Derek cared a lot about what was around him to the point that the weight was too much to give or pass on to anyone. Derek was worried that to share some of this burden would be to share all of it, and he didn’t want that on anyone. Didn’t want that on Stiles. Fought, like Atlas, to hold the entire world in his arms, and yet _had the gall..!_

“Fuck that, Derek. Tell _me_ not to care, that I care too fucking much, well where does that put you? Shit, Derek, I’m surprised you’re not stooped over with all the worrying you do! I... I have never dealt with..! You hypocrite, you...!” He literally didn’t have words. He was so frustrated, so tired, so...

_Elated._

_It’s him. He’s real._

That thought stopped him in his tracks. 

“It _is_ you.” He mumbled to himself.

“What do you mean?” Too late, Stiles remembered that with his extra hearing, Derek could hear him perfectly. Derek didn’t look upset though, just mildly confused.

“I... nothing, it’s just. I wondered. How much of ‘dancing Derek’ was real. If it was just a quirk of the moment, or if... You’re actually a really nice guy.” He couldn’t help but chuckle happily at the thought. 

Derek just watched him, eyes softening. “Maybe.” His voice was even, but that tone, that tone from then was back.

Stiles outright laughed. He wasn’t sure why this Derek made him so happy. Maybe, it was as sign that scars do heal, that even the grumpiest of all grumps could find a room to care for _him_ , that this Derek was real, that he got to see him, to meet him first. As he quieted, he felt almost shy around this new Derek. Now that he’d found him again, he didn’t quite know what to do with him aside from celebrate his existence.

“You ready to move, Stiles? I think we can safely assume the hunters aren’t headed this way tonight.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles paused. “Um, Derek?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

“I know you may not feel ready to show this... other side to the pack tonight. But, I think you should. I think they would love it. So no pressure but--”

“Are you saying you love it?”

“Yeah... kinda. It’s cool. Kinda the way I imagined having an older brother would be like.”

Derek snorted. “Whatever you say, Stilinski. Let’s go.”

“Lead on, oh mighty alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a bridge chapter. I had the option to throw them into a romance from the start, but I really wanted to build a mutual respect firsthand and a ground to step on, if you get what I'm saying. Also, I live and breath slow burn romance, so...


End file.
